it built him up in the eyes of the crowd. In the second, he owed you a favor for what you did the other day. Now the score is evened, watch him!"
"I'm here to watch him, and take him back with me. If you ever hear of him leaving, Addie, let me know at once."
The sun was setting now, sending a shaft of light across the room from the high, small window. In that shaft of light the dust in the air roiled and flowed like quicksilver.
"I'd better get back to business," Addie said. "It looks like a big night."
Paul lay for a time, getting used to the soreness of his body. At last he rose, put on his hat and went out through the dining room to the front porch. The sun had gone down, and the dusk was thickening, but a huge fire leaped and roared in front of the building.
The light of the flames, mixing with the gray dusk, cast a strange pinkish glow upon the faces of the men. It seemed to flow from the sky, where the sun had left a banner of color, streaked and furbished with red and orange and yellow. The warmth of the day still lingered, vying with the heat of the fire.
The circling men, some with bottles in their hands, one or two with hands on the shoulders of Addie's girls, watched the moving drama. There was an outcropping of limestone that had been blasted and shaped into a platform with a solid rock wall at the back. Upon this platform labored the drilling teams. Holes from other contests pierced the rock. The crowd cheered and strained to help their favorites.
Paul watched the drilling teams swinging their hammers in relentless, ringing blows. Stripped to the waist, their sweaty bodies appeared oily in the firelight; their biceps bulged and stretched, and the muscles of their backs writhed like snakes. One man crouched beside the holes, turning the long drill that bit its way into the rock, while the man with the double jack swung the heavy hammer faster and faster!
There was a steady ring of steel upon steel; pause to pour water into the hole to muddy the drillings; a swift change of steel as the mud was scooped from the hole with a scraper. There was an earnestness and precision about the two teams of drillers that was amazing.
Paul was conscious of another person close to him in the darkening shadows of the porch.
"Quite a big commotion here tonight," Morgan's gruff voice said.
Paul tensed. From Morgan he expected nothing but enmity.
"Yeah, big," he said, thinking of his own contribution to the fun.
"I won a nice little bet on you this afternoon," Morgan went on affably, his tone even. "I'm a betting man, but I like a square deal. I still think your friend Finch is a cheat, but I'm glad I didn't kill him. Thanks for butting in."
"He's not my friend. I figured you might hate my guts for what I did," Paul said.
"I never hold a grudge unless the cause keeps galling me: I could use a man like you."
"I'm already bought," Paul said shortly. "Besides, I could never do that work." He indicated the drillers still moving like well-oiled machines in the flickering firelight. It was getting quite dark by now, and most of the light came from the flames. "It beats me how they can see what they're doing."
Morgan grunted. "Look at 'em, working like mad to drill a hole into nowhere. They never break their backs when they're really working underground. I ought to know; I'm the daylight shift boss. That firelight is more than enough for them to drill by. They're used to a couple of candles stuck in the wall when they drill in the mine."
"What they're doing looks like quite an achievement to me," Paul confessed.
"There are some good men there," Morgan said. "Fewker and Migallo, the team on the left, have won matches in most of the camps of the territory. Calder and Tanner are riding them hard, though. If they don't get tricked out of it, they might win this match."
"Tricked out of it?" Paul asked. "How?"
"Watch the men crowding in close around the rock. They'll try to slip in a dull steel on them if they can. Calder's
"I'm here to watch him, and take him back with me. If you ever hear of him leaving, Addie, let me know at once."
The sun was setting now, sending a shaft of light across the room from the high, small window. In that shaft of light the dust in the air roiled and flowed like quicksilver.
"I'd better get back to business," Addie said. "It looks like a big night."
Paul lay for a time, getting used to the soreness of his body. At last he rose, put on his hat and went out through the dining room to the front porch. The sun had gone down, and the dusk was thickening, but a huge fire leaped and roared in front of the building.
The light of the flames, mixing with the gray dusk, cast a strange pinkish glow upon the faces of the men. It seemed to flow from the sky, where the sun had left a banner of color, streaked and furbished with red and orange and yellow. The warmth of the day still lingered, vying with the heat of the fire.
The circling men, some with bottles in their hands, one or two with hands on the shoulders of Addie's girls, watched the moving drama. There was an outcropping of limestone that had been blasted and shaped into a platform with a solid rock wall at the back. Upon this platform labored the drilling teams. Holes from other contests pierced the rock. The crowd cheered and strained to help their favorites.
Paul watched the drilling teams swinging their hammers in relentless, ringing blows. Stripped to the waist, their sweaty bodies appeared oily in the firelight; their biceps bulged and stretched, and the muscles of their backs writhed like snakes. One man crouched beside the holes, turning the long drill that bit its way into the rock, while the man with the double jack swung the heavy hammer faster and faster!
There was a steady ring of steel upon steel; pause to pour water into the hole to muddy the drillings; a swift change of steel as the mud was scooped from the hole with a scraper. There was an earnestness and precision about the two teams of drillers that was amazing.
Paul was conscious of another person close to him in the darkening shadows of the porch.
"Quite a big commotion here tonight," Morgan's gruff voice said.
Paul tensed. From Morgan he expected nothing but enmity.
"Yeah, big," he said, thinking of his own contribution to the fun.
"I won a nice little bet on you this afternoon," Morgan went on affably, his tone even. "I'm a betting man, but I like a square deal. I still think your friend Finch is a cheat, but I'm glad I didn't kill him. Thanks for butting in."
"He's not my friend. I figured you might hate my guts for what I did," Paul said.
"I never hold a grudge unless the cause keeps galling me: I could use a man like you."
"I'm already bought," Paul said shortly. "Besides, I could never do that work." He indicated the drillers still moving like well-oiled machines in the flickering firelight. It was getting quite dark by now, and most of the light came from the flames. "It beats me how they can see what they're doing."
Morgan grunted. "Look at 'em, working like mad to drill a hole into nowhere. They never break their backs when they're really working underground. I ought to know; I'm the daylight shift boss. That firelight is more than enough for them to drill by. They're used to a couple of candles stuck in the wall when they drill in the mine."
"What they're doing looks like quite an achievement to me," Paul confessed.
"There are some good men there," Morgan said. "Fewker and Migallo, the team on the left, have won matches in most of the camps of the territory. Calder and Tanner are riding them hard, though. If they don't get tricked out of it, they might win this match."
"Tricked out of it?" Paul asked. "How?"
"Watch the men crowding in close around the rock. They'll try to slip in a dull steel on them if they can. Calder's
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